especially if all Nicolò’s friends were as nice as the Arnauds. She continued to hold Joshua, who promptly fell asleep against her breast.
“Lucky brat,” Nicolò whispered in her ear.
“No,” she whispered back. “Lucky me.”
When the evening came to an end, Kiley reluctantly handed over Joshua and she and Nicolò made their farewells. They followed the lighted walkway from the Arnauds’ cabana to their own, enjoying the exotic scents that filled the sultry night air. It gave Kiley a moment to think, to address the whispered concerns that had gradually grown to a shout during the course of the evening. She’d learned two very important facts this evening.
First, that she could act the part Nicolò required of her in order to fit into his world. And second, that she didn’t want to pretend to be anyone other than herself, the “real” woman she instinctively recognized as her true persona. Now, she had to convince her husband of that. Nicolò unlocked the door and waited for her to precede him into the darkened interior. She paused in the foyer, turning to face him.
“I can’t continue this pretense any longer,” she announced.
Six
N icolò froze, Kiley’s words causing bitter disappointment to clash with cynical triumph. Gotcha. He didn’t know what about tonight had set her off, but she was finally going to admit the truth of who and what she was.
“What can’t you do?”
She swiveled to face him, taking a step in his direction that shifted her from deep shadow into a pool of moonlight. “I can’t continue living this sort of lifestyle. It feels…wrong. I feel wrong.”
Okay, not quite what he expected. “You didn’t enjoy this evening?”
“This evening—or at least, the second half of the evening—was incredible. But not all the rest. Not the trappings and the facade I’d have to adopt.” Worry filled her expression. “Is it necessary, Nicolò? Do I have to become the woman I was before in order for our relationship to work?”
“No.” The word escaped before he could stop it. “You can be any sort of woman you wish.”
“And you’ll still love me?”
The question burned like acid. “My feelings for you won’t change.”
“Even though I’ve changed?”
“Give it time, sweetheart.”
She took another step in his direction, closing the gap between them. Her hands slipped across his chest and gathered up handfuls of his shirt. “I don’t want to be the Kiley you described to me earlier. How can I like or respect her if she’s as shallow inside as she is on the outside? I just want to be who I am now. Can you live with that? Can you accept that?”
He wasn’t the one who wouldn’t accept it. She, herself, wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Not once she regained her memory. But how did he explain that to her, without telling her the rest? “It’s not my decision,” he said, regret roughening his voice. “If your memory returns you’ll be who you were before. The events that will have occurred since then may alter your perspective, somewhat. But you’ll be the Kiley O’Dell I first met.”
Tears filled her eyes and she shook her head. “I can almost hear the clock ticking down. Only in this version I don’t know who or what Cinderella turns into when the clock strikes midnight. I’m afraid of that other woman, afraid I’ll turn into something or someone I won’t like.”
“I don’t understand. Don’t you want to remember?”
“Yes. No. The way you act—” She shook her head, her tears catching on the end of her lashes. “The way everyone acts makes me wonder what you’re not telling me. Even Rosalyn—”
Aw, hell. “What about her?”
“She was annoyed with you about something. Please don’t deny it,” Kiley added, before he had a chance to speak. “All that business about being vulnerable and having to trust you. I can read between the lines. I also overheard you and Francesca arguing at Dantes Exclusive. I’m not an idiot, Nicolò. You’re
“Lucky brat,” Nicolò whispered in her ear.
“No,” she whispered back. “Lucky me.”
When the evening came to an end, Kiley reluctantly handed over Joshua and she and Nicolò made their farewells. They followed the lighted walkway from the Arnauds’ cabana to their own, enjoying the exotic scents that filled the sultry night air. It gave Kiley a moment to think, to address the whispered concerns that had gradually grown to a shout during the course of the evening. She’d learned two very important facts this evening.
First, that she could act the part Nicolò required of her in order to fit into his world. And second, that she didn’t want to pretend to be anyone other than herself, the “real” woman she instinctively recognized as her true persona. Now, she had to convince her husband of that. Nicolò unlocked the door and waited for her to precede him into the darkened interior. She paused in the foyer, turning to face him.
“I can’t continue this pretense any longer,” she announced.
Six
N icolò froze, Kiley’s words causing bitter disappointment to clash with cynical triumph. Gotcha. He didn’t know what about tonight had set her off, but she was finally going to admit the truth of who and what she was.
“What can’t you do?”
She swiveled to face him, taking a step in his direction that shifted her from deep shadow into a pool of moonlight. “I can’t continue living this sort of lifestyle. It feels…wrong. I feel wrong.”
Okay, not quite what he expected. “You didn’t enjoy this evening?”
“This evening—or at least, the second half of the evening—was incredible. But not all the rest. Not the trappings and the facade I’d have to adopt.” Worry filled her expression. “Is it necessary, Nicolò? Do I have to become the woman I was before in order for our relationship to work?”
“No.” The word escaped before he could stop it. “You can be any sort of woman you wish.”
“And you’ll still love me?”
The question burned like acid. “My feelings for you won’t change.”
“Even though I’ve changed?”
“Give it time, sweetheart.”
She took another step in his direction, closing the gap between them. Her hands slipped across his chest and gathered up handfuls of his shirt. “I don’t want to be the Kiley you described to me earlier. How can I like or respect her if she’s as shallow inside as she is on the outside? I just want to be who I am now. Can you live with that? Can you accept that?”
He wasn’t the one who wouldn’t accept it. She, herself, wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Not once she regained her memory. But how did he explain that to her, without telling her the rest? “It’s not my decision,” he said, regret roughening his voice. “If your memory returns you’ll be who you were before. The events that will have occurred since then may alter your perspective, somewhat. But you’ll be the Kiley O’Dell I first met.”
Tears filled her eyes and she shook her head. “I can almost hear the clock ticking down. Only in this version I don’t know who or what Cinderella turns into when the clock strikes midnight. I’m afraid of that other woman, afraid I’ll turn into something or someone I won’t like.”
“I don’t understand. Don’t you want to remember?”
“Yes. No. The way you act—” She shook her head, her tears catching on the end of her lashes. “The way everyone acts makes me wonder what you’re not telling me. Even Rosalyn—”
Aw, hell. “What about her?”
“She was annoyed with you about something. Please don’t deny it,” Kiley added, before he had a chance to speak. “All that business about being vulnerable and having to trust you. I can read between the lines. I also overheard you and Francesca arguing at Dantes Exclusive. I’m not an idiot, Nicolò. You’re
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